Decending
by Mateem Bluewing
Summary: Barriers broken, bloodstains come and gone, and unconventional sounds in a conventional house all lead Holmes, Watson, and thier inspector companions into a case they will never forget in thier lives... or afterlives...
1. Prologue

1.1 Prologue  
  
  
  
A/N: *sigh* I've been a fan of the SH stories for quite some time, but this is the first time  
  
I've gathered enough courage to write a fanfic. I'm afraid it will start out rather cliché,  
  
but believe me, there will be a very interesting twist to this. This will definitely be one of  
  
my darker fics by the time I'm finished, that's for sure.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, Inspector Lestraude, and other various  
  
characters are not creations of mine. However, I claim ownership to Emeruade, Naoko,  
  
Hunter, Pyro, and Etna.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
It was one of those rare nights in London, when all of the clouds and filth from the  
  
numerous chimneystacks were cleared by the wind from the sky, leaving the stars and  
  
moon to glare down upon the city. Along with this rare clarity, however, came a harsh,  
  
cutting, cold. Cold that made you shiver by just standing by the windowsill. Which is  
  
why I, and my old war wound, were quite happy to curl up in my favorite chair, as close  
  
to the fire as possible. Thus, I was quite startled by my friend's suggestion of a walk.  
  
  
  
"What in blazes- Holmes! It must be five degrees below zero, man!"  
  
  
  
"Yes?" the tall man asked, a brow arching. He stood by the door to our quarters, and  
  
seemed rather ready to put on his cloak at that instant.  
  
  
  
"Well, you may be one for going out in ungodly temperatures and catching cold, but I am  
  
not! Why on earth would you want to leave the comfort of a warm hearth, anyways?"  
  
  
  
"Ah, while that north wind may have brought the coldness that you so protest, my friend,  
  
it also brought a clear night! A perfect opportunity to study the cosmos!" he replied.  
  
  
  
Ah, so that was it. My friend was off once again, in his little scientific endeavors. His  
  
odorous dabbling with his chemicals has not brought too many discoveries, and I could  
  
sense that he was getting bored.  
  
  
  
"I'll stay here, thank you, Holmes. For I'm quite settled and content where I am."  
  
  
  
He nodded and quickly donned his Inverness cape and walked out. I sighed. 'Well, better  
  
for him to risk getting a sneeze than turning to the cocaine bottle' I thought, glancing at  
  
the drawer that hid the hideous solution Holmes all too often turned to in days of  
  
boredom.  
  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"COME ON, HUNTER, LET US IN!!!" hollered my friend.  
  
  
  
"YEAH, IT'S BLOODY FIVE DEGREES BELOW ZERO OUT HERE" I screamed  
  
along with her. I hated being cold, even a little bit. My current companion, Emeraude,  
  
insists that it's a weakness to be conquered. Quite frankly, I'd rather leave that to the  
  
less civilized creatures populating the earth.  
  
  
  
If, that is, you could call my constant companions and myself civilized. The thin curtains  
  
that covered the window by the door, opened to reveal two glowing, mischievous, brown  
  
orbs, surrounded by a just as dark face. Especially this one.  
  
  
  
"What's the password?" he hollered through the thin material that the walls were made  
  
of.  
  
  
  
"How 'bout Hunter is a loser?" retorted my friend. I remained silent, letting my middle  
  
finger do the talking.  
  
  
  
"Woo! Naoko's FIESTY tonight!" he called mockingly, having seen my response to his  
  
antics. I bristled even more. Certainly, I wouldn't have done that when I first arrived in  
  
London from Japan, but I was learning. I was NOT the naïve girl they had first took under their wing… okay, so maybe I was still rather naïve, but STILL.  
  
  
  
"Hmm… perhaps it's, As-of-today-Monday-the-15-of-Janurary-the-year-two- thousand-  
  
two-Hunter-has-been-kicked-out?"  
  
  
  
"Fine, fine, Emeraude, I get yer point." With that, he unlocked the door and let us in.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: OK, basic introductory chapter… hopefully, caught your attention. 


	2. Alignment

Chapter 1: Alignment  
  
  
  
A/N: Sorry 'bout the confusion in the prologue! Apparently FF.net didn't recognize the  
  
dividers I put in to indicate changes in POV. Guess I'll be using my old divider. ^^;  
  
As far as Naoko sounding like Watson, don't worry, they'll eventually develop their own  
  
voices as the story goes on. ^_^;  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Emeraude and I rushed in hurriedly, shoving Hunter aside in our quest to get to the  
  
radiator. Passing through the landing and clattering noisily up the bare stairs, we rounded  
  
around to the TV room, and rushed into the door less entry (the door had long been torn  
  
off by more violent tenants) and at last found a source of heat. Thank Kami-sama(1) for  
  
technology! We hovered inches from the radiator, still mummified in the clothes we  
  
wore outside. It wasn't for five minutes before we finally started to peel the layers off.  
  
  
  
Emeraude pulled her gloves from her fingers, and a worn hooded sweatshirt over her  
  
head, letting her platinum, thigh length, hair swing loose. She affixed her faded purple  
  
bandana that separated her cobalt, chest length, bangs from the rest of her mane, and  
  
dumped all of her things on the couch. I walked over to the old iron coat rack mounted on the wall and hung my things.  
  
  
  
I found that a strange unwritten rule of the house was that nothing on the rack could be  
  
touched, unless yours, but items left everywhere else were fair game. The others didn't  
  
seem to mind it too much, ("What goes around, comes around," was Emeraude's  
  
response to the whole situation) but I'm rather territorial about my possessions, so I  
  
became careful to always hang my things on the sacred Iron Rack.  
  
  
  
I could not help but steal a glance at my reflection in the mirror that accompanied the  
  
Iron Rack on the wall. I had the overall appearance of the English's stereotype of an  
  
Oriental: Black, shoulder length hair, slightly tanned skin, and tightly stretched skin by  
  
the eyes. It was my actual eyes that separated me from other Orientals, not only in  
  
appearance, but in blood as well. As opposed to the dark brown eyes that were usually  
  
present, there were soft sea gray irises with flecks of blue embedded in the edges. Eyes  
  
of an Englishman.  
  
  
  
I caught my friend's reflection passing over the mirror's surface behind my own to settle  
  
on the couch. Even with her habitual bandana over her forehead and her colored bangs,  
  
she seemed to retain a fragile and innocent appearance at a distance. It was an illusion  
  
that was maintained up to the point you encountered her eyes. Her sharp, intense aqua  
  
irises, always holding a predatory gleam, were enough to shatter any poetic delusions  
  
that she was merely a sweet young thing lost in the world.  
  
  
  
One night, I even ventured to comment on them. I believe my exact words were 'The  
  
eyes of a murderer.' She stared at me for a few seconds, her face unreadable, before she  
  
collapsed into gales of laughter. She eventually laughed herself off the couch, before she  
  
caught my expression. I suppose it was one of hurt, as I usually considered myself as an  
  
astute observer.  
  
  
  
"Gomen nasi (2), Naoko," she apologized to me in my home tongue. "I didn't mean to  
  
mock you, it's just…" she smiled, her intense eyes closing, abruptly giving her the  
  
complete appearance of an angel. "You surprised me. No one had ever said that about  
  
me before."  
  
  
  
"N-no that's ok, it was a pretty dumb idea, anyway," I replied with a smile of my own.  
  
But she remained strangely quiet and pensive and pretty much… out of it for the rest of  
  
that evening. I still wonder why.  
  
  
  
I abandoned the mirror, and flopped down on a dusty easy chair, while Emeraude  
  
stretched out on the couch, channel surfing. Our temporary quiet, however, was not to be  
  
for long. A blur of black and blue topped with fiery red hair vaulted over the back of the  
  
couch, flopping partially on the cushions, and partially on Emeraude.  
  
  
  
"YOINK!" he shouted exuberantly, snatching the remote from her.  
  
  
  
"PYRO! You ass, give it back!" roared Emeraude. She tackled the spiky haired boy,  
  
crashing down on the floor. "YOU CHOSE LAST NIGHT!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey!" called Hunter from the doorway, "In case you forgot, it's MY turn to control the  
  
remote tonight!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, GAAAWWD! If we are, like, watching WWF tonight, I'm SOOO staying in my  
  
room," whined another figure in the door. Etna sauntered her way in, her high heel boots  
  
clicking on the bare wooden floor. She tossed her bleached blonde hair, and straightened  
  
her overly tight shirt. She sat daintily on a chair, careful to keep herself, ah, covered in  
  
her miniskirt. It was a great mystery to me how she managed to survive as long as she  
  
did around here. I guess she had Hunter, her stepbrother, to thank for that blessing, or  
  
curse, depending on how you looked at it.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Too bad! Cuz there's gonna be a HUGE showdown tonight, and I sure as hell ain't  
  
missin' it!" retorted Hunter and he snatched the remote from Pyro.  
  
  
  
"Fine with me," the red head replied in a bored tone.  
  
  
  
"I'm outta here," muttered Emeraude, and she swiftly exited to the girl's bedroom. I  
  
decided that I was not in the mood for the lousy acting they called brawling, either, and  
  
followed her. Etna, of course, stayed. She was pretty much willing to watch anything on  
  
the boob tube.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
The Lancet had long slid off my lap where it rested while I dozed. I was awakened,  
  
however, by the slamming of the door, and the clattering of my companion's boots on  
  
the stairs. I groaned a bit from my stiffness, as I stood to build the fire. I imagined that he  
  
was chilled, through and through, and decided to warm things up a bit for him.  
  
  
  
Throwing the door open, Holmes, indeed, did look incredibly chilled, but satisfied as  
  
well. "One tends to forget the greatness of something, if has not recently seen it," was his  
  
greeting, as he began to shed his outer garments onto the wooden coat rack that stood by  
  
the door.  
  
  
  
"I take it that the sightseeing was up to expectations?" I asked, sitting down once more.  
  
  
  
"Up to, and exceeding, Watson. You really have no idea what you missed."  
  
  
  
He collapsed into his favorite chair, stretching his feet out to the fire and sighing.  
  
"Watson, would you please hand me the agony columns? I do believe I had forgotten to  
  
scan them this morning."  
  
  
  
I was startled a bit. Holmes never forgot to read the agony columns… I suspected it was  
  
another desperate attempt to find something to do. It touched me that he would try so  
  
many different techniques to avoid my distress over his health. I stooped over the pile of  
  
newspapers, hoping that I didn't accidentally use them for kindling. 'Let's see…' I  
  
thought to myself. 'Saturday the thirteenth… Sunday…Monday the fifteenth!' I tugged it  
  
out from the pile and handed it to him, and returned to the Lancet, praying the whole  
  
time that a case would turn up soon, for the sake of my friend.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Oy (3), Naoko-chan (4)! You know 'bout that rave that's gonna be down the street?" I  
  
started a bit, since it was the first verbal exchange we had in forty-five minutes. "Yeah,  
  
what about it?" I replied, peering over the edge of the bunk bed down at Emeraude, who  
  
was sitting at her drafting table under the top bunk of the other bunk bed that occupied  
  
the tiny room, drawing obsessively as usual. "Well, you going?" she prodded a bit  
  
impatiently, not looking up from her sketch.  
  
  
  
"I dunno… never been to one…are you?"  
  
  
  
"Yeah, I could use a good rave."  
  
  
  
I had heard about these 'raves'… mostly pertaining to the drugs that were passed out  
  
there. I was not sure it was something I wanted to take part in. "Umm… Emeraude, you  
  
aren't into… you know…drugs…"  
  
  
  
"Hell, no! You should know by now I'm dangerous enough just off of sugar!" I giggled a  
  
bit at that. She was the first person I've ever seen go from completely calm and  
  
composed to doing the Can Cun on the tables after drinking a half of a can of Cherry  
  
Coke. And according to Pyro, her cousin, that was one of her milder episodes. "But in all  
  
seriousness, I go 'cuz of the music and freestyle dancing. I'm not into getting high and  
  
all that crap."  
  
  
  
"Any particular reason?" I asked, thinking along the lines of a family member's death.  
  
  
  
" Too damn expensive. I'd rather spend my dough on art materials."  
  
  
  
Had I been a character in the manga I was reading, I would have fallen over. We both  
  
turned back to our activities, the muffled sounds of WWF wrestling creeping through  
  
the walls from the TV room.  
  
  
  
A/N: Yes, yes, very minimal amount of Holmes in there, but he will be ruling the next  
  
chapter! I swear!  
  
  
  
Glossary~  
  
1) Kami-sama: God  
  
2) Gomen nasi: Sorry  
  
3) Oy: Hey  
  
4) –chan: ending pertaining to casual familiarity 


	3. Unconvention

Chapter 2

A/N: I really DID take forever to do this chapter, didn't I? _ Lo sciento, gomen nasi, so sorry and a profusion of other apologies for the delay. Thank you, all, for the kind and encouraging reviews! (Though I still fall over every time I read yours, DrM. -_-;;; *prays that she will figure it out on her own* ) I WILL finish this!!! I promise! … What? Why are all of you giving me that look for? .-.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I topped off the glass with the evening's nightcap, readying myself for bed. Turning around, I ruefully observed Holmes staring trance-like into the fire, the Agony Columns abandoned on the floor. The search for prospective mind puzzles was futile.  
  
I silently walked up to Holmes, and touched him gently on the shoulder, bringing him out of his hypnotic musing. He glanced at the drink I offered, and accepted it with a nod of thanks. I returned to my chair on the other side of the fireplace.  
  
However, when I had nearly completely sunk down to the cushions, the bell started to ring with wild violence. The good Mrs. Hudson, who must have been just heading to bed herself, answered the door. We soon heard a rapid assent on the stairs, matching the panicked ringing on our doorbell moments earlier. Holmes had stood and opened the door, just as our guest rushed up the last steps.  
  
"Good evening, sir, do come in," he drawled, "Sit down, you look quite worse for the wear."  
  
Our guest, with a nod of thanks, did so, collapsing on the settee, panting hard. My friend sat down more calmly, keenly addressing him with his sharp gray eyes. I gazed at our visitor, before turning back to the cabinet to finish pouring him a drink. He had thinning, brown hair, wild and unkempt, a flaxen face, and weak, watery, green eyes. When I sat down again, I was surprised to see that under his overcoat, he was still clad in his pajamas and boots with the laces undone. I pondered what could have caused him to go out in the night in such attire, and waited, rapt for the story that would answer the question I mulled over.  
  
Finally, after taking one last hurried sip from his drink, he spoke. "I'm sorry to intrude upon you gentlemen so late, but the state of affairs are so distressing-"  
  
"We understand, and don't mind, sir. Please tell us your tale," responded Holmes with slight impatience as he sat back, steepling his fingers.  
  
The visitor nodded and began  
  
"My name is Jonas McKenzie. I recently inherited my uncle's house when he died from the grippe, as I am his only remaining family. It was a nice building and still recently built, so I moved in a week ago. But. in these past few days there have been…strange things occurring."  
  
He took a breath, and gulped some of his drink down.  
  
"I assure you, that I am not paranoid, nor do I believe in ghosts, but these past few days have begun to give me reason to think one or the other! While I was putting moving boxes into their proper rooms to unpack later, I would come back and find them either rearranged differently, one added, or missing, then it reappearing where it once was before! I made sure all the doors and windows were locked, but it continued happening.  
  
"Even after a I finished moving in, furniture would continue to move on it's own; mind you, I never saw it move myself, but I would leave a room, come back minutes later, and find the whole room rearranged!  
  
"But the worst was still to come. You see, I'm a restless sleeper and I'm woken up easily. Last night, I was woken up, but for what reason I did not know not. Suddenly, I heard the strangest …drumbeat coming in my room, from somewhere else in the house. Of course, I leapt up and hurried to investigate, but wherever I went in the house. As time progressed, the drumbeat was joined by the most peculiar noises.

  
"Noises?" My friend interrupted.  
  
"Like music from an instrument of which I've never heard the likes of.  The only one I could best equate to is when you pluck a small spring. The rest I just simply can't describe. it was… otherworldly.  
  
"Anyways, I searched the whole house, but the music never got louder or quieter, except when I left the house, during which it was completely silenced. I came back into the house, continued searching, and it suddenly ceased, and all was silent. The same thing started to occur tonight, and I couldn't stand it any longer. I raced here, for you are the only one who can help me, Mr. Holmes! Please aid me!" His breath had grown rapid again and his hands shook.  
  
" Calm yourself, man!" Holmes commanded him sternly. He complied the best he could, gulping down the dregs of his drink. I took the glass from him to refill it.  
  
"Now, Mr. McKenzie, do you have any, per say enemies, rivals for your inheritance?"  
  
"No, I can assure you that I have no enemies, or anyone that would wish me any ill will."  
  
Holmes stood and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, his eyes glowing darkly with mental activity. At last, he seemed to come to a decision and turned to the visitor.  
  
"Take us to this house of yours, I need more data."  
  
McKenzie smiled slightly. "And to check my sanity?"  
  
Holmes did not reply.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"GROUP COUNCIL!"  
  
So was the disturbance from our activities for the first time in hours. I groaned, glancing at my watch: 10:30. And here I was, ready for bed.  
  
"YOU DON'T HAVE TO SCREAM IT!" Emeraude bellowed in retort to the retreating form of Pyro. " I'M NOT DEAF! Or at least I wasn't." she finished with a growl, rubbing an ear gingerly. With a crisp snap, she put the cover on her pen.   
  
I rolled out of the top bunk and followed her to the living room, glancing for a second at the newest creation to grace her desk. Only a couple of lines were penned in, but I could recognize a cape or coat of some sorts. Ah, well. Better check later.  
  
"Alright, time to take a head count of who's hitting the rave." Pyro announced in a pompous manor that seemed particularly ridiculous coming from him. "Hunter, I already know you're coming with."  
  
"Duh, there are like, always cute boys at raves," was Etna's brilliant contribution for the night.  
  
"Of course," replied Emeraude, leaning against the doorframe with her trademark "There-better-be-a-good-reason-for-this" look on her face.  
  
"Uh, er- I'm in," I hurriedly spoke up when all eyes were on me.  
  
"Alright, Pyro, why the meeting? Since when do we count heads like we're still in grade school?"  
  
"Since the host of this thing told me that there was going to be a larger crowd than usual, I wanna know where you are all gonna be."  
  
"Pyro, I can take care of myself just fine, cuzz," Emeraude replied, "And I'll look after Naoko." I felt like protesting, but since I really didn't have any material to retaliate with, I kept my mouth shut.  
  
"Don't worry, Mom, I won't drive drunk," Hunter rejoined snidely, earning him a swift smack over the head by the other boy.  
  
Etna seemed to have slowly drifted to the girls room during the argument and chase that ensued, with me following close behind. Emeraude remained in the living room, slipping to a corner, watching the boys with an amused smirk. If there was anything that she enjoyed more than working on her art, it was those two in a fight.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Whee, almost through the plot setup and we can get some action goin here!!! @.@


End file.
